


"Emma" Drabble Collection

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: Emma (TV 2009), Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Jealousy, Period Typical Attitudes, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: A series of drabbles pertaining to adaptions of Jane Austen’s “Emma.”





	1. George Knightley – BBC 2009 – The moment he realized he was in love with Emma.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Jane Austen’s “Emma” nor the BBC’s 2009 version. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: A series of drabbles pertaining to adaptions of Jane Austen’s “Emma.” Each chapter will be marked with appropriate pairings, version, etc.  
> Disclaimer: please read the disclaimer attached to each individual chapter.

In the middle of it.  
  
That was how it came about.  
  
He merely marked the passing of one moment to the next as Emma played. Voice sweet and lively as the others smiled. Filling the Cole's home with the echoes of two very well tuned instruments, only to have his entire world dip unsettlingly when her voice was suddenly joined by that of Frank Churchill.  
  
That was all it took.   
  
It wasn't the harmony. Admittedly the gentleman's voice was quite pleasing. No, it was something else entirely. Perhaps it was that he didn't sing. Or that Emma rarely sang in concert with anyone, let alone a man. It could have even been related to the gentleman's proximity- his vexing closeness as he leaned unnecessarily near to turn the page. Even the way Emma was looking up at him at that very moment. Cheeks flushed, smile unguardedly bright. Looking enamored and animated in a way he'd rarely seen.  
  
He took in the changes remotely. Taking care not to allow the emotion to make it to his face. Merely showing the room the lack of one. A mask carefully smoothed to the most austere of civility. So much that he was only vaguely aware he'd been enjoying himself until that very moment.  
  
Emma would have been the only one in the room who would have known anything was amiss.  
  
But then, she was otherwise engaged.  
  
And he'd never felt more conflicted about that reality in his life.  
  
For it occurred to him, regardless of his lack of a favorable voice, that if Emma should be singing and smiling towards anyone, it should be...him.  
  
He did not sleep that night.  
  
Nor the one after.


	2. George Knightley – BBC 2009 – His thoughts about Emma and Frank before Emma’s comments to Miss. Bates.

His fingers clenched viciously into the folds of the picnic blanket as the gentleman had the gall to settle his head in Emma's lap. Looking every bit like a pair of lovers absconded to nature's privacy, rather than centered at the head of a growingly uncomfortable audience. 

  
He was not immune to the nature of his feelings. Fully realizing he was wishing something uncharitable towards the man, but still finding himself unable to quell the brimming, over-zealous voice that whispered- it would have been better if Frank Churchill had never come back to Highbury at all.  
  
The mere sight of them was altogether too much for him to bear. He thought he would be able to weather the jealousy he'd been feeling - simmering in the back of his mind since the Cole's party - but apparently he'd been mistaken.  
  
And now he was caught, his very bleeding heart helpless and naked in the openness of their situation. He could not flee to the familiar comforts of Donwell Abbey. Nor could he escape the company of the others. For even if he decided on another walk, one of the ladies would no doubt wish to company him. And he was in no mood to entertain anything but the sullen nature of his own thoughts.  
  
Then, for better or for worse, Emma quickly reduced him from seething jealousy to an emotion he could more easily express as Miss Bates' expression fell, shoulders slumping as the sting of Emma's barbed tongue sank in slowly.  
  
Boxhill held very little beauty for him that afternoon, indeed.

 


	3. Mrs. Weston - How she views her courting and marriage to Mr. Weston

It was warm.  
  
If she had to describe it. To pin such an expansive, handsome idea to ground in order to explain her feelings, that was the word she'd use.  
  
_He was warm._  
  
Admittedly, he always had been.  
  
If she were a better woman, she would not be able to confess to having felt there had been something about him from the very beginning. Even before his wife had passed and she was new to her position as the Woodhouse's governess. A household in dire need of mature female company.   
  
Still, his attentions had come as a surprise all the same. Rousing her from her placidity and replacing complacency with a cautious sort of excitement. Realizing that despite being so much at home at Hartfield, there was a part of her that yearned for more.  
  
And apparently, so did he.  
  
For while Emma hadn't bothered to hear it after her success with the umbrella after church, the road to that moment had been paved with quiet bricks long before Emma had gotten her and Mr. Weston in her sights.  
  
For example, only a few months before, she'd been walking to town to post a letter and came across him on the road. He had been gone some months and she hadn't been able to contain her excitement when she'd recognized him, cantering on horseback.  
  
He'd stopped and dismounted, walking with her to town like it had been his intention all along. Speaking of his travels and adventures like he was starved for familiar company. He told her of his business in London and his experience in it's society. Delighting her with tales of his years in the militia and then his ventures in trade with his brothers after the passing of his late wife. He spoke of it all fondly, but to her it seemed as though all that elegance was a sore replacement for the rolling hills and clean air of the countryside. Learning quite to her astonishment that he had a mind to look for larger lodgings - perhaps not so close to town as he'd once been. Something with an estate, perhaps.  
  
It had teased at her mind for days afterwards.  
  
For what did a man with no wife and a child perpetually away from home need with such a property?  
  
Not long after that, Mr. Weston called on Mr. Woodhouse. And she was not ashamed to admit that the few stolen moments she'd had with him stayed with her for days afterwards. Basking in how agreeable his temperament was and how like-minded they were. Especially how he seemed to value- and even seek out her thoughts and opinions on any subject.   
  
Like all things, love needed a foundation.  
  
And that was how they'd started.  
  
Emma had merely recognized their budding attraction and sped things along in her usual manner. Saving them the awkwardness of finding the opportunity to be together so he could finally say what had been on his mind for sometime.  
  
Their walk after church that day had left her with a warm feeling that seemed to evade even the worst of the rainy-chill. Allowing her to endure Mr. Woodhouse's fussing with grace when she'd returned. Finding herself directed to the seat closest to the fire and liberally plied with tea as Emma squirmed in her seat. Barely keeping herself silent as Mr. Woodhouse puttered around trying to make the parlor into a summer-room. Smiling at Emma's impatience as the dear man draped her shoulders with a blanket. Telling her she was liable to catch a cold and so on.  
  
She'd smiled so much that evening, her reflection had never seemed so complimentary.

And indeed, it hadn't taken long for her to visit Mr. Weston at the Randall estate.

Answering his invitation quite promptly, with Emma in tow, of course.  
  
For being so new to her life in such a capacity, Mr. Weston was somehow hearteningly familiar.  
  
And never did it feel more so when despite his experience, he still managed to trip over his words when he asked for her hand. Every sentence so tender and heartfelt that she couldn't help but burst to tears. Enjoying his embrace for the first time as she'd violently nodded her acceptance, to moved to speak.  
  
Like ships in the night, apparently they had not been destined to pass each other forever.  
  
And thank God for that.


End file.
